Lost Without Her
by X-Shadow.of.Darkness-X
Summary: Santana and Quinn had managed to keep their relationship a secret for a long time. But after an inopportune intrusion, Quinn feels she has no choice but to leave Santana. Can Brittany help to mend a broken and distraught Santana? Or will her grief consume her completely? Initial Quinntana, mentions of Fabrevans
1. Chapter 1

**Lost Without Her**

**Summary:**Santana and Quinn had managed to keep their relationship a secret for a long time. But after an inopportune intrusion, Quinn feels she has no choice but to leave Santana. Can Brittany help to mend a broken and distraught Santana? Or will her grief consume her completely?

**A/N: Thank you for clicking onto this story and giving it a go! This will be a lot different to my other stories on this site, as it will be a lot angstier and a lot more character-driven. Let's see how it goes, shall we?**

**Firstly, if you clicked onto this story expecting a light, fluffy Brittana story, you may be in for a disappointment. While there is Brittana interaction, and a great deal of it, it is neither romantic nor is it the main focus of this story. You'll see what I mean soon enough.**

**I have taken some liberties with the background for this story, some of which will become clear as the story progresses. The major changes are that Will never reformed the Glee club, and Quinn never had Beth. There may be some other changes as well, but those will be purely cosmetic. There is one other major change, but I won't reveal what that is, as it would spoil the end of the story.**

**And now, let's begin...**

-x-x-x-x-x-

_My name is Brittany S. Pierce._

_Santana would probably kill me for writing all this down, but I have to tell someone the story, if only to help them if they are going through the same thing. Santana was lucky, and now she's happy – well, happier – that it's all behind her._

_Santana's therapist suggested that she do this as well, and maybe she does – I don't know, and I've never asked. I don't want to know. Some things are meant to stay private._

_So I'm writing this for me, and for you. Maybe only one person will read it. Maybe everyone will read it. But if I don't write it down, no one will read it..._

-x-x-x-x-x-

Brittany flopped down onto the bench, groaning in relief as she was finally able to take the weight off of her feet. She had been dancing for fourteen years, since she was four, and that was rigorous at the best of times. But Cheerios practice was something else entirely.

Brittany wasn't completely sure that Coach Sylvester wasn't trying to separate the wheat from the chaff by near killing them every day. The woman was on a whole different level. She was entirely positive that if it weren't for her athleticism, she would never have been able to keep up after the first week.

That was just over three years ago.

She raised her water bottle to her mouth, squirting water down her throat, attempting to rehydrate herself as quickly as possible. On these rare occasions that Coach Sylvester actually allowed them to take a break, it was never for very long.

A few feet away, Quinn and Santana were grabbing their own water bottles. A small smile crossed Brittany's face as she watched them.

She knew about their relationship. And she was the only one who knew. Truth be told, she had known about it before they did. Everyone called her out on being dumb or stupid, but she was used to that by now. Sure, she wasn't particularly book smart, but she was people smart, and in a high school environment, particularly William McKinley High School, where a single rumor could tear you from the top of the social hierarchy in an instant, that was what really mattered.

The knowledge of Santana and Quinn, or Quinntana, as she referred to them in her head, gave her a sense of inclusion. It was two and one, but also three. She was fiercely loyal and protective of her friends, and that was perhaps the reason they felt they could be themselves around her.

She smiled as Quinn and Santana took their seats next to her.

"Damn, does Coach want a squad for Regionals next month?" Santana asked, squirting water into her mouth.

Quinn nodded.

"They shouldn't be in the uniform if they can't take a little hard exercise, but I agree. This is getting ridiculous. Half the squad's going to quit at this rate."

"You're the captain, can't you suggest she ease up a bit?" Brittany suggested. Quinn scoffed.

"Please. You think being the captain means anything? It's a formality, nothing more. Coach will do what she wants, when she wants, just like usual."

Brittany sighed as she looked across the side of the field at the assembled cheerleaders. Not one of them was standing, and nearly half of them were barely able to sit.

Brittany opened her mouth to speak, but was cut across by Coach Sylvester barking at the girls through her bullhorn.

"Come on, get up! God gave you legs for standing, not for sitting! Twenty laps of the field, go!"

The assembled girls all groaned as they hauled themselves to their feet. Quinn, Santana and Brittany immediately tossed their bottles to the side, running out onto the field. They knew what would happen if they didn't follow orders quickly enough.

The rest of the squad knew soon enough.

"Get going! Add an extra five laps!"

-x-x-x-x-x-

Brittany let out a moan as she slipped into her dad's car after Cheerios practice. He glanced at her in concern.

"Are you okay, sweetie?"

She nodded wearily, her eyes screwed tightly shut.

"Yeah, just tired and sore. Coach Sue was really on one today."

Her father's eyes hardened as he listened.

"I should really go to Figgins and complain about that woman."

"It won't make a difference, Dad." Brittany said, reaching behind her, grasping for her seat belt. "She keeps on winning championships and bringing money into the school. She's too valuable an asset."

He shook his head.

"Well, our other option, of course, is..."

"I'm not transferring, Dad!" Brittany said firmly, her eyes snapping open, twisting in her seat to glare at her father. "I'm not a child, I can take a bit of hard work!"

Her father sighed deeply. Sometimes, his daughter could be so stubborn.

"All right, sweetie. Just remember, that option is always open to you."

"I know."

He placed his hand on her leg briefly, comfortingly.

"We'd better get going, we can't be late picking Stef up."

-x-x-x-x-x-

Santana ran her fingers through Quinn's hair, pulling the other girl closer to her as they deepened their kiss. Quinn made a soft moaning sound, a sound that gave Santana a small thrill every time she heard it, loving that it was her who was eliciting these sounds from the blonde.

Quinn began slowly working her hand up Santana's leg, her soft fingers leaving a blazing trail against Santana's thigh. Santana pulled her closer still, willing her to hurry up.

They jumped apart immediately as the sound of the front door slamming reached the sitting room. They both quickly adjusted their clothing to make themselves appear presentable before pulling their textbooks and half-finished essays toward them, attempting to appear busy with schoolwork.

Quinn looked up, smiling brightly as her father walked into the room.

"Hi Daddy!"

Russell grinned widely as he rounded the couch, puling Quinn into a fierce hug.

"Did you have a good day, Quinnie?"

"Yeah, it was good." She gestured at Santana, still sitting on the couch. "You remember Santana?"

Russell nodded, smiling at Santana.

"Of course, of course. It's good to see you again, Santana."

Santana nodded politely.

"It's good to see you as well, Mr Fabray."

Russell nodded, glancing down at their essays.

"Getting on with schoolwork, I see! Excellent! Well, don't let me keep you from your studies."

He turned and walked into the kitchen. Quinn watched him go, then sat down wth a small sigh.

"Well, I guess we have to actually do schoolwork now. Sorry about that." She threw a quick glance at the kitchen door before pecking Santana quickly on the lips.

"No, it's okay." Santana said, trying to keep the frustration from her voice.

Santana wished that Quinn's parents could possibly be supportive of their relationship, but she knew that there was no way that that would happen. Russell was a deeply religious man, and Santana had been present during several of his many rants about how homosexuality was a sin. It had been an intensely uncomfortable experience for her, but she didn't say anything. She couldn't do that to Quinn.

She wouldn't.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Brittany growled in frustration as she picked herself up off of the floor of the dance studio yet again. Her legs were incredibly sore, and she was only keeping herself going through sheer force of will. She looked up to see her dance instructor, Elena Konycheva, crossing the floor, her old eyes full of concern.

Elena Konycheva was old, easily eighty years of age. She had emigrated from Russia to America when she was barely twenty, dancing with the New York City Ballet and on Broadway before retiring to Lima, Ohio. She was an exemplary dancer, and a very formidable woman to boot. She moved with grace and elegance, seeming to simply float from one place to the next, even if she was only walking, a skill acquired through decades of dance.

"Come, Brittany, speak with me." she said, guiding Brittany to a seat. Brittany followed gratefully, sipping on a bottle of water.

"You do not have such problems before, my dear. What is it that troubles you?" Elena asked, her voice deeply accented, even after sixty years.

Brittany shook her head.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Konycheva."

Elena tutted.

"You need not apologize to me, girl, unless you have spited me in some way, and I assure you that you have not."

"Okay." Brittany sighed. "It's cheerleading. Our coach pushed us all pretty hard today."

Elena's eyes narrowed.

"This cheerleading is barbarism. It is not true dance. And for you? One injury can undo everything I have worked to create with you these last years. If you did not love it so, I would not allow you to continue."

"I can't abandon Quinn and San." Brittany said.

"Your loyalty to your friends is an admirable quality." Elena smiled. "But if this cheerleading interferes with your dance, I will not hesitate to march into that school and give your Coach a piece of my mind. What is it you Americans say? This old dog has plenty of bite left?"

Brittany chuckled, imagining Elena and Sue having a showdown. It would be for the ages. Of that, Brittany was certain. She could only hope that it wouldn't come to that. She was pretty sure that William McKinley wouldn't be standing at the end of it.

"Thanks, Ms. Konycheva."

Elena smiled at her.

"It is nothing, my dear. Come, let us try again."


	2. Chapter 2

_There are so many people who say that true love doesn't exist. There are even more that say that love of any description can't exist when you're a teenager._

_All of those people are wrong. Because I've seen it._

_I saw it when Santana looked at Quinn. I saw the love and adoration in her eyes. Nothing and no-one could seemingly keep her from Quinn._

_I guess all those people who say that true love doesn't exist haven't experienced it for themselves yet..._

-x-x-x-x-x-

Santana was lying on her back on her bed, staring up at the ceiling. Her mother was out, yet again, God knows where and with God knows who, so she had been left at home all alone. Yet again.

She sighed deeply as she stared at the ceiling, not really looking at it, but rather through it, as though she could see the night sky and the stars beyond.

She loved Quinn, and she was in love with Quinn. She knew there was a world of difference there. You loved your friends, your family, your favorite TV show. But to be _in_ love with someone was something else entirely.

Every time she thought about her future, Quinn was always there. Clad in a long white gown, holding a newborn child, her arms wrapped around her as they waved their children off to college. She was always there.

She couldn't wait for the day when they could finally be themselves, without having to constantly look over their shoulders for Quinn's parents. Santana's mother didn't and probably couldn't care less about her daughter's sexual orientation, but that was most definitely uncharted territory in the Fabray fortress.

Which was what the Fabray house was. Russell may have seemed to be a kindly, loving father, but he ruled the house with an iron fist. She knew exactly what would happen if Quinn were to come out to her family, and she couldn't do that to her. She wouldn't drag her out of the closet just because she was tired of hiding their relationship. She loved her too much to do that to her.

She jumped as her phone beeped on her bedside table, alerting her of a new text message. Reaching over, she picked it up, opening the message.

Quinn Fabray:** Sorry about earlier. I promise I'll make it up to you xxx**

Santana Lopez:** Don't worry about it, I don't want you getting in trouble**

Quinn Fabray:** I'll come over to yours after school tomorrow, will your mom be around?**

Santana Lopez:** Maybe, hard to say. Most likely not**

Quinn Fabray:** Got to go, Dad's calling me. I love you xxx**

Santana Lopez:** I love you more xxx**

She sighed as she replaced her phone on her bedside table. She hated the fact that Russell seemed to have so much power over his daughter, but, at the moment, there was nothing she could do about it.

Her phone beeped again, and she scooped it up eagerly, her face falling when she saw the message.

Mami:** Immm be hommmw lsrr dngtr wasit ip**

She snorted, tossing her phone away from her in disgust. Quinn may be living under Russell's thumb, but at least he cared about his children, in his own inimitable way. In some ways, she would rather have that than a mother who quite clearly couldn't care less about her and would rather spend her time at some bar getting totally wasted than spending time with her only daughter.

She sighed as she rolled onto her back again, resuming her staring at the ceiling.

-x-x-x-x-x-

The next morning, Santana found her mother passed out halfway up the stairs. She shot the woman a look of utmost contempt, ensuring she trod on her fingers as she passed her.

The woman didn't even stir.

Santana didn't sit down. Instead, she paced aimlessly around her kitchen as she ate her cereal, lost in thought. Sometimes, she wondered if her mother would even notice if she just packed her bags and left. On days like today, she had to think she wouldn't.

She grinned as she heard Quinn's car horn outside. She grabbed her bag, shouted a goodbye to her mother that probably went unheard and made her way to Quinn's car, pulled up by the sidewalk.

"Good morning." Quinn smiled as Santana got into the car.

"Morning." Santana replied, pressing her lips against Quinn's, reveling, as always, in the amazing softness of Quinn's lips.

As they pulled away, Quinn knew enough about Santana's mother to be able to ask, "So, where was your _mami_ this morning?"

"Stairs." Santana said, a noticeable amount of disgust and disdain in her voice.

Quinn sighed sympathetically, placing a hand in Santana's.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Santana replied, squeezing Quinn's hand. "It's not your fault."

Quinn didn't say anything. If Santana didn't want to talk, she wouldn't.

They drove in near silence all the way to school, Santana only making small talk. She wanted to talk, but her mother was weighing so heavily on her mind. She would have thought that she would be used to it by now, but no. Instead, she just allowed herself to feel that little bubble of protection she felt whenever she was with Quinn.

This made her hate her mother even more. The ride to and from school was one of the very scant times they could truly be a couple before having to hide themselves from everyone at school. Particularly Kurt Hummel and Mercedes Jones. Santana was well aware that they were the two biggest gossips in the school, and if they found out about her relationship with Quinn, they wouldn't be physically able to keep it to themselves. It would go around the school like wildfire. Lima was a pretty small place. Everyone knew everyone, and it would eventually make its way back to Russell. She hated, hated, hated the hiding and secret-keeping, but it was a necessary evil. Besides, there was less than a year left until they went away to college, and they wouldn't have to hide themselves any more.

Santana couldn't wait.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Brittany was waiting for them by her locker, as was their custom. She watched them as they walked down the corridor. She had known them since kindergarten, and knew them well enough to be able to detect the smallest changes in their body language.

Students scurried to move out of the cheerleaders' way, but that was nothing new. They could have created the same effect through sheer force of personality, but the red and white of a Cheerios uniform was like armor, an added layer that elevated their social standing while keeping everyone else in place.

Brittany studied her two friends as they approached. Both seemed a little more reserved than usual, but they were walking as closely as normal. Something was definitely up, but it wasn't something to do with their relationship. Brittany allowed herself a small amount of relief. She knew the two girls were head over heels for each other. She hated to think what would happen if they suddenly split up. Of the two of them, she knew Santana the best, and the Latina was far easier to read than Quinn. She was sure that Santana would not handle such a split well.

"Hey." Brittany greeted them cheerfully. She cast a furtive look around before leaning in and adding quietly, "Is everything okay?"

Quinn smiled at the honest, innocent concern from her friend.

"Yeah, everything's fine, B. Just her mom being, well, you know, her mom."

Brittany nodded sympathetically, looking over at Santana, who was studiously ignoring everything around her, her whole attention seemingly on inputting her locker combo. Brittany knew better. Santana was always aware of what was going on.

"I'm sorry, San." Brittany said, placing a gentle hand on Santana's shoulder. Santana shrugged, but didn't make any attempt to remove Brittany's hand. "Do you want to stay at mine for a while? You know you're more than welcome to."

Quinn smiled at Brittany. She knew Brittany knew the deal with her parents, and she appreciated Brittany's removing of that particular obstacle in their relationship.

Santana shrugged again.

"Maybe. I'll see how it is tonight. She might be all right." She snorted. "A girl can dream, right?" She slammed her locker shut with a loud, metallic bang. "Come on, Homeroom."

Quinn and Brittany both looked at each other before following Santana down the hall.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Sam Evans watched Quinn out of the corner of his eye. He had thought she was hot since he had first set foot in the halls of William McKinley, but getting her on her own to ask her out had been a near impossibility. She seemed to be attached at the hip to Brittany and Santana. That, combined with the Cheerios uniform, made her all but unapproachable.

He sighed, pounding his fist lightly against his forehead. He had, perhaps stupidly, created a whole world in his head where he and Quinn were together. He knew how he was going to ask her to marry him. He knew what their kids' names would be. He knew what their house would be like.

Not that anyone knew that he thought about this stuff. God, they would think him crazy at best, a creepy stalker at worst. And worst of all, he knew it was ridiculous. For God's sake, the girl had barely spoken two words to him! He was starting to think he might actually be crazy.

The girl twisted round in her seat at that moment, as though sensing that someone was watching her. He quickly averted his eyes, but in his haste, his elbow slipped from the table. He threw out his other hand to catch himself, slapping it against the table. Loudly.

_Smooth, Evans. Real smooth._

Quinn laughed, and God, that laugh... Sam was sure it was what angels sounded like when they laughed. He flashed her a dopey grin before busying himself with something, anything, on his desk, trying to ignore the embarrassed heat currently suffusing his face.

It was a couple of minutes before he dared to look up again. Quinn wasn't looking at him anymore; instead, she seemed to be engrossed in conversation with Santana and Brittany.

He slapped his hand against the table, lightly this time. He was gonna do it. The next chance he got, he was going to ask Quinn Fabray out.

Whether such an opportunity would present itself was another matter entirely.

-x-x-x-x-x-

To his enormous surprise, such an opportunity presented itself earlier than he could have imagined.

Later that afternoon, in fact.

He was walking back to the locker rooms from the football field when he saw her, leaning against the wall next to the Cheerios locker room door, and, blessedly, alone.

_All right, time to man up, Evans._

He squared his shoulders, turned and walked over to her. He didn't know how long she had been waiting there, nor did he know how long they would have until they were joined by Santana and Brittany. He'd have to get straight to the point.

"Hey, Quinn."

She looked up, her hazel eyes locking with his. He felt his breath hitch in his throat.

"Hey."

He swallowed his spit, glancing around himself. Quinn studied him for a moment before returning her attention to some small imperfection on her fingernail.

"Listen, I was wondering, if you weren't busy, if we could maybe go out for dinner sometime." he blurted out. Now that it was out in the open, he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to hear the answer.

She looked at him again, running her eyes up and down his body, as though sizing him up. Under her piercing gaze, he wanted to turn tail and run, but his legs were refusing to cooperate.

"Like a date?" she asked. He nodded violently.

"Yeah. A date."

She looked him up and down again.

"And just why would I want to go on a date with you?"

That flustered him.

"I – well, I - "

She raised a hand, and he fell silent immediately, as though placed under some kind of spell.

"Look, I don't know what your angle is here, and frankly, I don't want to know. I'm pretty. I know, I get told at least twice a day. I get asked out by guys all the time. What makes you think you're so special? Your stupid Justin Bieber haircut? The only people who find that sexy are his thirteen year old fangirls."

His legs finally caught up to his brain. He turned and left as fast as he could without actually running.

When he reached his car, he slid in and rested his forehead against the steering wheel, running a hand through his hair.

_Girls really don't find it all that attractive?_ He sighed. He had been sure that he had been onto a sure thing.

Still, he reasoned, she hadn't flat out said no. He twirled a few strands of hair around his fingers, pulling it down to his eyes.

There was only one thing for it.

-x-x-x-x-x-

"And what can I do for you today, young sir?"

Sam took a deep breath.

"Short back and sides, please."

-x-x-x-x-x-

"_Mami?_" Santana called as she pushed her front door open, Quinn following close behind her. "_Mami?_"

Silence.

If she was being perfectly honest, Santana wasn't really surprised. Her mother was always out, either passed or of the house. She hadn't any reason to suspect that this time would be any different.

She led Quinn through to the sitting room, dumping her bag unceremoniously on the floor. She turned, opening her mouth to speak, but found her mouth attacked by Quinn's lips, arresting any further thought of speech.

Santana grabbed at Quinn's back, pulling the blonde as close to her as she could. She moved backwards, finally falling when her legs found the couch.

The surprise of the sudden fall separated their lips for a brief moment, before Quinn moved her lips down to kiss and suck at Santana's pulse point on her neck. Santana let out a long moan, gripping Quinn's hair, forcing her to continue.

Eventually, Quinn left Santana's neck alone, returning her attention to her lips, kissing her deeply, hungrily, ravenously.

"I love you, San." she whispered between kisses.

"I love you too." Santana replied breathlessly. This was where she felt truly safe.

She didn't ever want it to end.


	3. Chapter 3

_That day has always been burned into my memory. It was the day that everything changed._

_It's been almost ten years since, but every year, on this date, Santana changes. She becomes more withdrawn, and doesn't let anyone come close to her, not even me._

_I hate that after all this time, it still affects her so deeply. At the time, none of us had any idea of the long term effect of it. We couldn't have had any idea._

_I still don't know the full details of what happened that day. Santana refuses to tell me, and I dropped out of contact with Quinn a long time ago._

_I know Santana trusts me more than anyone, and if she won't tell me, then she certainly won't tell anyone else..._

-x-x-x-x-x-

Sam ran his fingers through his now short hair, examining it in his mirror. He had to admit, it looked good on him. He looked older, more mature. Quinn would dig this look, surely?

He brushed a few errant strands of his fringe away from his face, grinning at himself.

Oh yeah, Quinn would dig this.

-x-x-x-x-x-

As it turned out, that wasn't entirely true.

She had noticed, that was for certain. The look she had sent him had definitely seemed impressed. It was hard to tell with her. She always kept her thoughts and emotions very close to her, and her poker face was incredible, to say the least.

Still, it was better than being completely ignored.

The rest of the school had certainly taken notice as well. Heads turned wherever he went. He decided he liked being the centre of attention. It felt... empowering. Yes, empowering.

It was remarkable how such a small change could elicit such an enormous reaction. Girls seemed to trip over themselves as he passed, and he was sure he'd caught a couple of guys checking him out as well.

He didn't care about all that, though. He only had eyes for one person.

A blonde head cheerleader.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Quinn and Santana were curled up on Quinn's couch, watching some movie on TV. It was one of those rare times that all of the Fabrays save Quinn were out of the house, and the two girls were keen to take advantage of the opportunity while it presented itself.

Both girls were staring at the TV, but if you'd asked them what was happening in the movie, neither one of them would have been able to tell you. Santana was lazily tracing random patterns up and down Quinn's arm, while Quinn had her head resting on Santana's chest, listening to her girlfriend's heartbeat.

Neither one of them knew that it would be the last time that they would do so.

Quinn twisted her neck slightly, looking up at Santana, smiling at her. Santana smiled back down at her, leaning down and kissing her lightly. Quinn snuggled closer into the Latina, inhaling the slightly intoxicating scent of her perfume.

Santana kissed the top of Quinn's head, then shifted her body, kissing Quinn's cheek, then the corner of her mouth before pressing their lips together again.

Gently, she guided Quinn down so she was lying flat on her back. Santana kissed her again before placing her knees on either side of Quinn's waist, straddling the blonde. She leaned down again, pressing her lips against Quinn's, more forcefully this time.

Quinn moaned into Santana's mouth as she felt Santana's tongue enter her own mouth. She brought her hands up to Santana's face as their tongues wrestled for dominance, cupping the Latina's face.

"What the hell?!"

The two girls jumped apart as though scalding water had been thrown over them. Quinn sat bolt upright, forcing Santana to shift backwards swiftly to avoid being smacked in the face. She looked over the back of the couch to see her older sister, Frannie, staring at the two of them, her eyes wide.

Quinn immediately went bright red.

"Frannie, it-it's not what it looks like..." It sounded feeble, even to her.

Frannie didn't say anything, but nodded slowly.

"Sure, I'll be in the kitchen..." She tailed off before barreling through the kitchen door.

Quinn flopped back down onto the couch, her hands covering her face.

"Shit. Shit, shit, shit." She brought her hands back down from her face, staring up at Santana. "Get off me, Santana."

Santana did so, feeling a small burst of pain as she did so. Quinn never called her Santana. Always San, or S. Never Santana.

"It'll be okay, Quinn. I know it will." Santana said, looking at her girlfriend.

Quinn shook her head.

"No, it won't. She'll go to Dad. He's gonna totally flip out."

"You don't know that." Santana said, placing a hand on Quinn's leg. "He might be happy for you. All parents want their children to be happy. Or so I'm told."

Quinn slapped Santana's hand away.

"You don't get it."

Santana's eyes were starting to fill with tears.

"Then help me understand."

Quinn shook her head.

"Get out, Santana."

"What?"

"Get out of my house."

Santana choked back a sob.

"Are you breaking up with me?"

"Get out, Santana."

There was nothing in her voice. It was dead, emotionless. Santana took one final look at Quinn before turning, hurrying to the front door, her tears now flowing freely.

Quinn waited until the front door had slammed shut behind the Latina, sighed deeply and got up, walking into the kitchen.

Frannie was still in the kitchen, staring out of the window over their expansive garden.

"Frannie, I can explain."

Frannie turned back to her, her eyes cold and accusing.

"Please, do. What the hell was that?"

Quinn took a deep breath, composing herself. This was it. She had to make a choice. Her girlfriend, or her family.

"I don't know, Frannie. She just got on top of me."

"Haven't you been listening to Daddy? It's disgusting, it's a sin!"

Quinn nodded, forcing her tears back. She couldn't let Frannie know what was really going on.

_Game face on, Fabray._

"I know. I swear, I didn't initiate it. I wouldn't."

"Then why was she kissing you?" Frannie asked, staring into Quinn's eyes. Quinn shrugged.

"I think she has a crush on me."

Frannie grimaced, turning her nose up in disgust.

"A crush? So she's one of _them_?"

Quinn shrugged.

"I guess so."

Frannie made an audible noise of disgust this time.

"Well, why don't you tell her to knock it off?"

Quinn sighed. She hated the words coming out of her mouth, but it was for the best.

She hoped.

"I feel sorry for her. You know the deal with her Mom and Dad, right?

Frannie shook her head.

"You're too nice, Quinnie."

"You know I'm not like that, Frannie. I'm boy-crazy, if anything." She flashed quickly through her memory. "Actually, there's this really cute guy at school. Sam Evans? He asked me out the other day."

Frannie's face brightened immediately.

"Really? What did you say?"

Quinn scoffed, hoping it sounded convincing enough.

"Yes, obviously. What else would I have said?"

Frannie smiled widely.

"So, when are you seeing him?"

"This Saturday." Quinn said. Her insides were roiling unpleasantly.

"Great!" Frannie enthused. "I'll take you out shopping tomorrow! You have to look great, not that you don't normally, anyway." she added.

Quinn nodded enthusiastically.

"Yeah, great. Thanks." She paused for a moment. "You won't tell Daddy about Santana, will you?"

Frannie stared at her.

"Are you kidding? Quinn, she was basically raping you!"

Quinn shook her head pleadingly. "Please, Frannie, don't. She's just confused. I'll talk to her. I'll tell her to keep her distance. Just don't tell Daddy."

Frannie was silent for a long time, mulling it over in her mind. Finally, she sighed.

"Fine. I won't say anything. Just make sure you tell her."

Quinn nodded in relief.

"I will."

Frannie pulled her sister into a quick hug.

"Good." She released her, looking down at her, smiling widely. "I want all the deets on Sam later, got me?"

Quinn nodded again.

"Got it."

Frannie beamed at her as she left the kitchen. Quinn waited until the door had slammed shut before raising her hand to her mouth, stifling her sobs, her tears now, finally, streaming down her face.

-x-x-x-x-x-

When Brittany opened the front door, she wasn't expecting to see a crying, tear-stained Santana on her front doorstep.

"San, what's wrong?"

Santana simply shook her head, launching herself into Brittany's arms. Brittany folded her arms around the sobbing Latina, rocking her back and forth. Stefanie, her little sister, came out into the hall to see what the fuss was about, but Brittany waved her away.

After what seemed like an age, Santana extricated herself from Brittany's arms, wiping her eyes on her sleeve.

"I'm sorry." she said, her voice thick.

Brittany shook her head.

"It's fine. Come on, we'll go to my room."

Santana let Brittany lead her through the house, even though she had been here enough times to know her way through the Pierce house blindfolded, handcuffed and deafened.

Santana sat on the edge of Brittany's bed as the blonde girl closed and locked the door behind them. She wasn't quite sure what to do with herself. Her brain was a whirl of thoughts, each one chasing the other round and round and round and round.

Brittany sat down next to her on the bed, rubbing one hand up and down her arm comfortingly.

"San, what happened?"

Santana took a deep, shuddering breath, steadying herself.

"Quinn broke up with me." she said in a small voice, her tears spilling over once again.

Brittany's insides went cold. Surely, she must have misheard. Quinn and Santana broke up? It was impossible. They had seemed happy enough together, and there was no sign of any problems between the two. True, Brittany didn't spend every waking moment with the pair, but she knew she was observant enough when it came to her two best friends to have been able to detect _something_.

There had to be more to this than it appeared.

"I'm so sorry, San." she said genuinely, wrapping her arms around the Latina, who leaned into her body, seeking the warmth and comfort of Brittany's embrace. "What happened?"

"We were hanging out, and Frannie caught us... you know..."

Brittany did know. Her eyes were so wide, Miss Pillsbury would have been impressed. While not as fanatical as Russell, of the two of the Fabray daughters, Frannie had bought into Russell's 'teachings' more than Quinn. The only person worse to have been caught by would have been Russell himself.

"Shit."

Santana nodded.

"Pretty much."

Brittany tightened her hold on Santana.

"Did she say she was breaking up with you?"

Santana shook her head, which was once again buried in Brittany's neck.

"Not directly. She told me to get out, and she wouldn't answer me when I asked if she was breaking up with me."

"Well, maybe she won't break up with you." Brittany said, trying to give Santana some sense of hope, even though, and she hated to admit it, she didn't quite believe it herself.

"Please. You know her family. She'll choose them over me." Santana choked back another sob. "My _papi_ left me, my _mami_ may as well have. Now Quinn's left me as well. I knew she would eventually. Everyone I love leaves me in the end."

Brittany's heart broke as she heard the words leaving Santana's mouth. And the worst part? There wasn't really anything she could argue with. There was no way that Russell would sanction a relationship between Quinn and Santana, or any girl, for that matter. He was far too ingrained in his religious beliefs for that.

Nor could she legitimately argue the point about her parents. Santana's father had taken off when she was nearly eight, and hadn't been in contact since. He could be dead, or in prison. Santana would never know. And her mother. Her mother spent all her time drowning her sorrows in a bar, hooking up with a different man every night. Brittany was frankly surprised that Santana hadn't been taken away by Social Services and placed into foster care by now.

There was only one point she had any hope of winning an argument about.

"That's not true, San."

"Yes, it is, Britt. You know it is." Santana replied, her voice full of dejection.

Brittany shook her head fiercely.

"No, it's not. You said everyone you love leaves you, right?" Santana nodded. "Well, that's not true. You love me, don't you?"

"Of course I do, Britts."

Brittany smiled.

"Well, I promise you, I'm never going to leave you, ever. I'll help you get through this. And you will get through this, I promise."

Santana sighed.

"I don't know, Britt."

Brittany raised her hand, pinky extended.

"Pinky swear."

Santana smiled slightly. Brittany hadn't offered a pinky swear since they had been kids. She chuckled slightly as she raised her own pinky finger, looping it around Brittany's.

"Pinky swear."

They both laughed as they tugged against each other's fingers for a moment before releasing the other.

"I'll talk to Quinn tomorrow." Brittany said. "I'll find out what's going on."

Santana nodded her appreciation. At the moment, she didn't think she could face the other girl.


	4. Chapter 4

_I had never seen Santana so dejected and despondent. She was always so full of life. I had never realized how much she had relied on Quinn. Quinn had been her rock, and now she was like flotsam, idly bobbing along, aimless and alone._

_Being completely honest, those first few hours, I kind of hated Quinn. But then I realized that I couldn't jump to conclusions. I had to hear Quinn's side of the story..._

-x-x-x-x-x-

Santana didn't go home that night. Brittany hadn't suspected that she would. She cleared it with her parents as soon as possible, but didn't tell them the reason why.

Everyone knew everyone.

It wasn't particularly early, but when Brittany returned to her bedroom, she was greeted by the sight of Santana, curled up into a ball on one side of the bed.

Brittany smiled sadly. Anger at Quinn curled in her gut, anger that she could do this to the girl she purported to love. She closed the door softly behind her, padding lightly across the room, slipping onto the bed beside Santana.

As soon as she was settled into a comfortable position, Santana rolled over, latching herself tightly to the blonde.

"I'm glad you're here, Britt." Santana whispered.

Brittany rubbed her hand up and down Santana's arm.

"Me too, San."

A few minutes later, Santana was snoring gently beside her.

Brittany hardly slept at all.

-x-x-x-x-x-

"Hey, Sam."

Sam looked up from his locker to see Quinn standing next to him, looking at him curiously.

"Good morning, Quinn." he replied, his tone guarded. Quinn laughed lightly.

"At ease, Mr Kim, before you sprain something."

Sam's eyes widened comically.

"Star Trek? Really?"

Quinn shrugged, grinning at him.

"What can I say?"

Sam ran a hand through his hair. He was still getting used to the length, or, rather, the lack of it.

"I wouldn't have pegged you as a Trekkie."

Quinn shrugged again.

"I'm a woman for all seasons."

"Clearly." He regarded her carefully. "Can I help you with something?"

Quinn took a deep breath.

_It's for the best._

"I was wondering if that dinner offer was still open?"

Sam's insides clenched excitedly, and he had to exercise every last bit of his self control not to leap into the air with glee.

"Yeah, of course it is."

"Great!" Quinn smiled. "Saturday evening. Here's my address and number." she said, handing him a small slip of paper. Sam opened it, scanning his eyes over the neat script, doing his best to contain his excitement.

"I'll be there."

"Glad to hear it." She smiled at him before turning away, walking down the corridor toward her own locker.

Sam turned back to his own locker, running his hand through his hair again, a huge grin on his face.

_Sam Evans, you beauty!_

-x-x-x-x-x-

Brittany and Santana didn't see Quinn at all until lunch time. As the morning had dragged on, Santana had become less and less animated. Brittany was sure she knew why. With each passing moment, the chances of Quinn and Santana's relationship being salvaged were becoming slimmer and slimmer. All Brittany could do was lend Santana her silent support.

Brittany and Santana were sitting at their usual table at lunch when they saw Quinn across the canteen. She looked across at them as Brittany raised a hand, indicating for her to join them.

Quinn looked between them, then at Santana. Her heart sank as she saw the mixture of despair and hopefulness in her dark brown eyes.

She closed her eyes. She'd made her choice.

She stepped forward, then turned off, seating herself with several other Cheerios at a table that she considered a safe distance from Santana and Brittany.

Brittany instantly deflated as she saw Quinn's seating choice. Santana dropped her head into her hands. She couldn't bear to watch.

Brittany placed a comforting hand on Santana's back.

"I'll go and talk to her. Wait here."

Santana made a small noise, nothing intelligible that Brittany could discern. She rubbed her back gently before standing and walking over to Quinn's table.

"Sorry to interrupt," she said, in a voice that indicated that she wasn't sorry in the slightest. "but I wanted to have a quick word with Quinn."

Quinn shot her a confused look, but stood, abandoning her lunch, following Brittany to a more secluded corner of the canteen.

"What the hell's going on, Quinn?" Brittany launched immediately, without any preamble.

"What are you talking about?" Quinn asked, stalling for time.

"Don't play dumb with me, Q, you know _exactly_ what I mean!" Brittany hissed, not wanting to draw any attention to them. "Santana. What's going on with you and Santana?"

Quinn ducked her head, refusing to meet Brittany's piercing gaze.

"I can't..."

"Can't what?" Brittany demanded.

"I can't be with her." Quinn whispered, so quietly that Brittany almost didn't hear.

Almost.

"What are you talking about?" Brittany asked, stepping forward into Quinn's personal space. "Of course you can be with her. You love her, don't you?"

"I'm not allowed to."

Brittany shook her head. She couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"Quinn, you're allowed to love whoever you want." She paused as something occurred to her. "Are you scared of what your dad will do to you?"

"No." Quinn replied, tears pooling in her eyes. "I'm scared of what he'll do to Santana." She lifted her hand, brushing away her tears irritably. "I love her too much to do that to her."

"Quinn, you can't let your father dictate who you love!"

Quinn shook her head miserably.

"You don't understand."

Brittany exhaled deeply.

"Santana is heartbroken, Quinn. You did that to her. Are you seriously going to leave her like that?"

"I don't want to," Quinn said, her breathing becoming slightly ragged. "but I have to."

"Look," Brittany said, placing a hand on Quinn's arm. "go and talk to Santana. You can both come over mine on Saturday. Everything will be fine. You'll see."

"I can't do that."

"Why not?" Brittany demanded.

Quinn ducked her head again, as though trying to hide the words coming out of her mouth.

"I'm seeing Sam on Saturday."

"Evans?" Brittany asked incredulously. Quinn nodded. Brittany growled lowly. She wasn't a violent person by nature, but she had never wanted to hit the girl in front of her more in her life.

"Wow. Well, that didn't take you long, did it?" she snarled. "Santana's sitting over there, not knowing where to go or what to do, and here you are, organizing your next date!"

"I had no choice!" Quinn hissed, pushing Brittany back several steps. Brittany scoffed.

"Yeah, you were in a real fix." She stared at Quinn in exasperation. "I thought you loved Santana."

Quinn shook her head.

"I did. I do. But I'm not like that. Maybe it was just a phase. I don't know. I need to work it out. On my own." She dropped her head, cradling her face in her hands. When she looked back up, her eyes were filled with remorse.

"Promise me, Brittany? Santana is going to be vulnerable. She's going to need you, more than anyone has ever needed you in your life. You have to be there for her, while I figure this thing out. You have to be there for her, or she'll hurt for the rest of her life. Promise me, Britt."

Britany sighed, looking down at the floor.

"I shouldn't need to be there for her, Q."

"You think I like this?!" Quinn exclaimed, barely keeping her voice down. "I hate this! I hate this entire situation!" She breathed out deeply. "It's what I have to do. It's for the best."

Brittany shook her head in disgust.

"I thought you were stronger than this, Q. I'll look after San. But not for you."

With that, she turned on her heel and marched away. Quinn stood there dumbly for a few moments, before returning to her senses and moving back to her table.

Santana looked up at Brittany as she approached, her eyes full of hope. Brittany's heart nearly split in two.

She couldn't do this. She didn't want to do this. But she had to. She was Santana's best friend. That was part of the job description. Bad news bears.

"Well?" Santana asked, looking eagerly at Brittany. Brittany sat down next to her, willing herself not to cry. She raised a hand, placing it gently on Santana's shoulder.

"I'm sorry, San..."

Santana's head dropped immediately, her eyes screwed tightly shut. Brittany's insides were coiling unpleasantly, and she was sure that she was going to throw up.

Santana looked up slowly, her eyes scanning the room, until they landed on Quinn. The blonde was sitting and laughing with her fellow cheerleaders, looking for all the world as though nothing had happened.

Santana's entire body shook. Slowly, she pulled herself to her feet, staring at Quinn. Then, in one sudden motion, she grabbed her tray, sliding it across the table, sending it flying to the floor with an almighty crash.

The entire canteen went silent. No one moved. They all stared at Santana, who was shaking with barely contained rage. She stared around at everyone, as though daring one of them to laugh.

No one did.

She slid out of the seat, grabbing her bag as she went and stormed out of the canteen, not looking back at the shocked occupants or the mess of food and crockery she had left on the floor.

"Santana..."

Brittany's voice was small in the silence. She stood as well, grabbing her own bag and Santana's Cheerios jacket and following the Latina hurriedly.

As soon as the door swung shut behind the dancer, the canteen buzzed with conversation, everyone coming up with their wild theories on what had just happened.

Quinn didn't say a word. She simply stared at the mess on the floor. She forced her tears back.

_It's for the best._

-x-x-x-x-x-

Brittany found Santana sitting by herself high up on the bleachers, staring out over the desolate football field. As she approached, Brittany could see that Santana's face was stained with tear tracks, her makeup smudged from where she had been wiping her eyes. She was also shivering. It was getting to that time of the year when the cold started to become biting.

"Hey," she said, wrapping Santana's jacket around her shoulders. Santana murmured her thanks, but continued to stare out over the football field.

They sat in silence for a long time. Brittany didn't want to force Santana to speak; she knew the girl well enough to know that that was not the way to get the Latina to talk, especially about her feelings and emotions.

"I knew she'd leave me." Santana said suddenly, breaking the silence of the last fifteen minutes. "Everyone leaves me in the end."

"That's not true, San." Brittany said softly.

"Yes, it is!" the Latina replied hotly. "My _papi_ left me without so much as a goodbye. My _mami_ has been a stranger to me almost as long. My _abuela_ hasn't been in contact since my _papi_ left. Now Quinn's left me as well." She sighed, shaking her head as fresh tears started rolling down her face. "No one wants me."

Brittany forced herself not to cry. She had never seen Santana so distraught. She had known that Quinn had meant everything to Santana, but now that Santana was without the other blonde, Brittany could clearly see just how much she had meant to her.

Brittany had never hated anyone as much as she hated Quinn in that moment.

"_I_ want you, San." Brittany said, gripping Santana's hand gently. "You're my best friend, and I'm gonna help you, I promise. Everything will be all right, you'll see."

Santana looked at Brittany, really looked at her. Saw the honesty and compassion in her eyes.

"Thank you, Brittany." she said. She leaned toward Brittany, placing her head on the dancer's shoulder.

Brittany wrapped her arms around Santana. She may not particularly like Quinn at this current moment in time, but she wasn't going to let Santana fall.

Not now.

Not ever.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Part of the text of this chapter is taken from William Shakespeare's _Romeo and Juliet._**

-x-x-x-x-x-

_Sometimes, when you're going through a difficult time, it seems like the entire world is conspiring against you to remind you of the event._

_That was what it was like for Santana. Everywhere she went, something seemed to be reminding her of what she had lost._

_We had thought it was bad at the time. No one had any idea how bad it could, and would, get..._

-x-x-x-x-x-

Santana stayed at the Pierce house the entire weekend. Mark and Amy Pierce were used to Santana or Quinn staying on a whim, but they could tell that it was different this time. Santana seemed to have this far-off look in her eyes, and seemed to be only half-listening to anything that was being said to her.

Brittany was grateful that her parents didn't push Santana on why she was acting in this way. She hadn't told them about Santana's relationship with Quinn, or its new status. She didn't want Santana to be put in that position right now.

That conversation would take place some time, she was sure, but it wouldn't take place now. Not if she had anything to say about it.

Her younger sister Stefanie was thrilled by the fact that Santana was staying the entire weekend. She adored Santana, idolized her, even, and barely left the Latina's side. While Brittany was glad that she had something to take her mind off of Quinn, she could tell that Santana really wanted to be left alone.

"Stef?"

Stefanie looked up at the sound of her name.

"Yeah, Britt?"

"I think San's a bit tired. Why don't you let her rest for a bit? I'm sure she'll play with you some more later. Right, San?"

Santana nodded, her eyes full of gratitude as she looked at Brittany.

"Yeah. Definitely."

Stefanie pouted, but climbed down from Brittany's bed. Brittany waited until she was out of her room before locking the door behind her.

"Thanks, Britt."

Brittany shook her head.

"No problem. It's not her fault. She means well, but she doesn't know anything about what's going on. No one except Quinn, me and you know."

"She's a good kid."

"Yeah." They sat in silence for a moment. "Do you want to watch TV?"

Santana half-shrugged.

"Sure. Whatever."

Brittany bounced off the bed, turning her TV on and grabbing the remote before settling herself back down on the bed by Santana. There was silence as she flicked the the guide on the screen, finally stopping at a program she knew Santana loved.

"Friends?"

Santana nodded mutely. Brittany clicked the enter button and the screen went black, lighting up moments later with the slightly grainy picture from the nineties.

It took them all of about five seconds to recognize the episode. The episode where Ross and Rachel broke up. Fate, it seemed, had a cruel sense of humor.

Santana grabbed the remote, switching the TV off immediately.

"I'm sorry, San."

"It's not your fault." Santana said quietly.

"We can watch a DVD?" Brittany offered. "Your choice?"

Santana shook her head.

"I don't want to do anything."

Brittany paused. She wanted Santana to do something, anything, to take her mind off of Quinn, but forcing the Latina to do something wasn't going to help matters.

"Okay. That's okay. We can just lie here."

So they lay there, staring at the ceiling. They lay there so long that Brittany thought that maybe Santana had gone to sleep. She was just about to check when Santana's voice cut through the quiet stillness.

"Britt?"

"Yeah, San?"

There was a long pause.

"Nothing. Never mind."

Brittany shifted on her bed, propping herself up on one arm.

"No, seriously. What is it?"

A longer pause.

"I was wondering... would you... hold me?"

This was a side of Santana that genuinely worried Brittany. Santana was never one to be held, not even really by Quinn. This was her letting her guard down, almost begging, pleading for closeness, for comfort. Brittany decided instantly that she didn't like this side of Santana. It felt too foreign, too unnatural. She was asking for what Quinn would have given her, because of what Quinn had done to her.

"Of course I can."

Brittany shifted her body, allowing Santana to crawl into her side. As soon as she put her arm around Santana's shoulders, the Latina encased Brittany in a vice-like grip, dropping her head into the crook of Brittany's neck.

"I'm sorry I'm such a mess." Santana whispered. Brittany shook her head gently, not wanting to disturb the other girl's position.

"You have nothing to be sorry for."

-x-x-x-x-x-

The following Monday was where it all started to go downhill.

Brittany and Santana had not seen Quinn since they had arrived at school, something that Brittany was incredibly thankful for. Santana's emotional state had bettered somewhat over the weekend, but she didn't want to see what would happen when the Latina was faced with Quinn.

She certainly didn't want to see what would happen when Santana was faced with Sam.

They were halfway down the corridor when they heard a voice call out, addressing them. Brittany didn't even have to turn around to know that the voice belonged to Noah Puckerman.

"Santana! Brittany! Where's Q? Did she break up with you guys?"

It was meant as a joke. Brittany knew that. There was no way that Puckerman knew about Santana and Quinn. It was a stupid teenage joke.

But that didn't matter.

Brittany spun on her heel, surging toward Puckerman and his entourage of cackling team-mates, but Santana got there first. She raised her right fist, sinking it hard into Puckerman's face. There was a loud _crack_, and Puck's head snapped backwards. He howled in pain as his hands shot up to his face, trying to stem the flow of blood now pouring from his nose.

Puck's cronies stopped laughing straight away as Santana glared at them.

"Shit, let's get out of here."

They vacated the scene immediately, none of them wanting to be next to bear the brunt of Santana's wrath. Santana glared at the assembled crowd before turning and storming down the corridor.

"Santana, wait!" Brittany called after her, but to no avail.

Puck simply stood in the middle of the corridor, blood dripping off his face. He was pretty sure his nose was broken.

As was always the case, a teacher was soon on the scene.

Mr Schuester was one of the fairer teachers in the school, but also one of the most naïve and gullible. He took one look at Puck's face.

"Get yourself to the nurse's office, Noah."

Puck didn't need telling twice. He turned and left as quickly as he could without actually running, wanting to be away from the staring and the humiliation.

Mr Schuester turned to the assembled students.

"What happened?"

One student opened his mouth, but Brittany cut across him.

"He walked into an open locker door. I guess he wasn't looking where he was going."

Mr Schuester raised an eyebrow, turning back to the crowd.

"Is that true?"

Just about every student began nodding vociferously.

Will nodded slowly in acceptance.

He didn't see Brittany behind him, giving every student present a death glare, as though daring them to tell the truth.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Santana didn't talk about the incident. She didn't have to. Brittany knew what had been going through Santana's head. She didn't need it confirmed out loud.

Brittany had managed to calm Santana down enough to get her to English class. They were sitting in the classroom, waiting for the teacher to arrive, when the very event that Brittany had been working to keep from Santana happened.

Quinn and Sam walked in.

Hand in hand.

Santana didn't notice them at first. She was totally engrossed in the graffiti left on the desk by a student many generations ago. Brittany hoped and prayed that Santana wouldn't notice the pair, but when Quinn laughed, Santana's head snapped up.

Brittany closed her eyes. She didn't want to see Santana's reaction.

At first, Santana didn't notice their joined hands. When she did, her eyes narrowed, so much so that they were almost slits. She followed them with her eyes as they took two seats on the other side of the classroom, glaring daggers at Sam as he pulled a chair out for Quinn.

Brittany reached out, placing a calming hand on Santana's leg. The Latina jumped at the sudden contact, before turning to Brittany.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Brittany shook her head.

"I didn't want to make things worse for you."

"So you thought it would be better if I found out like _this_?" Santana hissed.

Brittany felt terrible. She knew she shouldn't have kept it from Santana, but she had thought that she was doing the right thing.

Clearly not.

She was saved from answering by the arrival of the teacher.

-x-x-x-x-x-

"O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright!  
It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night  
Like a rich jewel in an Ethiope's ear;  
Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear!  
So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows,  
As yonder lady o'er her fellows shows.  
The measure done, I'll watch her place of stand,  
And, touching hers, make blessed my rude hand.  
Did my heart love till now? forswear it, sight!  
For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night."

The teacher, Ms Burrows, lowered the book, looking around the classroom. She was a stern woman in her mid-sixties, and took no nonsense from anyone.

"So, what is it that our tragic young hero is talking about in this passage?"

Brittany glanced at Santana. She couldn't imagine what was running through the Latina's mind. _Romeo and Juliet_ was perhaps the worst play Ms Burrows could have chosen at this particular moment in time.

There were a few sighs from around the classroom as Rachel Berry's hand shot into the air.

"Love!" she beamed.

"Yes!" Ms Burrows smiled. "Love." She turned, grabbing a piece of chalk and scrawling _LOVE_ in large letters on the blackboard, underlining the four letters with a flourish.

"Love is a central theme of _Romeo and Juliet_." Ms Burrows continued, resuming her pacing around the classroom. "Love is a difficult thing to define, as it means something different to all of us. For example, for me, love is showing someone that you would do anything for them, regardless of the consequences."

Santana slammed her copy of the play down onto her desk, surging to her feet. "Liar!"

The tension in the classroom immediately ratcheted up several notches. Ms Burrpws looked rather taken aback that someone would be so bold as to call her a liar, but rallied quickly.

"I'm sorry, Ms Lopez?"

Santana glared at the woman.

"I said, you're a liar, _Rosemary_." she said mockingly, glaring at the teacher. "You're a liar. No one can define love. It just is! It's the single highest point you can reach as a human being! And when you're up there, looking down on everyone else? Everything seems like it's going to be all right. Thats what love is!"

She grabbed her bag, swinging it onto her back, nearly knocking Mercedes Jones face first into the desk in front of her, before storming out of the classroom, sending a vicious look at Quinn before she left.

"Santana Lopez, get back here this instant!" Ms Burrows called, but was met with silence.

The entire room was in a state of near shock. No one knew what to do or say. Brittany looked around at Quinn, who seemed paler than usual.

Ms Burrpws composed herself, turning back to the classroom.

"Shall we continue where we left off?"

-x-x-x-x-x-

Brittany found Santana, once again sitting at the top of the bleachers, staring at something in her hand. She climbed up the steps, sitting herself next to Santana, looking over the Latina's shoulder.

Santana was holding her phone. On the screen was a picture of her, Brittany and Quinn. Brittany recognized the picture immediately. It had been taken just after they had won the National Cheerleading Championship last year. All three of their faces were shining with excitement and happiness, Santana and Quinn gripping each other tightly. Brittany felt a small tear form in the corner of her eye.

"I have to get her back, Britt." Santana said quietly, staring at Quinn's face on the screen. "I have to."

Brittany's stomach clenched. She remembered all too clearly the conversation she had had with Quinn in the canteen.

"I don't think that's going to happen, San." she said carefully, gently.

"It will!" Santana said loudly, surging to her feet, looking down at Brittany. "It will happen, because she is _mine_, and I am hers! She loves _me_, not Sam! She _will_ take me back, she _will_!" She collapsed back onto the seat, burying her face in Brittany's neck.

"She will take me back." she whispered.

Brittany didn't know what to do. She simply wrapped her arms around Santana, rocking the girl gently as she wept.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Part of the text of this chapter is taken from William Shakespeare's _Sonnet 18._**

-x-x-x-x-x-

_Santana was and still is a very driven person. When she sets her mind to something, she will pursue it with a single minded determination._

_I don't know if she ever considered how fruitless it was at the time. All I know is that, in retrospect, that was when Santana started to become unhinged..._

-x-x-x-x-x-

Santana was sitting cross legged on Brittany's bed, leafing through the pages of her English textbooks.

_I have to get her back._

She paused, scanning her eyes across the lines of verse in the book. It was a well-known poem. Quinn would definitely recognize it.

It was perfect. It was the key to getting Quinn back.

Slowly, carefully, she read each line, committing the words to her memory.

_I have to get her back._

-x-x-x-x-x-

Santana wasn't able to find Quinn until a free independent study period the next day. As she walked through the library doors, she could see Quinn, leaning over a table, scribbling away in a notebook. She cast another look around.

No sign of Sam.

Perfect.

She strode forward confidently. This would definitely get Quinn back.

Quinn didn't look up until Santana was level with her. When she did so, her eyes went wide.

"Santana, what are you doing?" she hissed, glancing over at the librarian, a rather cross old woman.

Santana ignored the question, instead, grabbing a chair and using it as a step to climb onto the table, turning so that she was looking down at Quinn. Every head in the library turned to look at the commotion, the librarian rising out of her seat. Quinn ducked her head, bringing her hands up to hide her face.

Santana stared straight at Quinn, took a deep breath, and recited:

"Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?  
Thou art more lovely and more temperate.  
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,  
And summer's lease hath all too short a date.  
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,  
And often is his gold complexion dimmed;  
And every fair from fair sometime declines,  
By chance, or nature's changing course, untrimmed;  
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,  
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st,  
Nor shall death brag thou wand'rest in his shade,  
When in eternal lines to Time thou grow'st.  
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,  
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee."

Santana looked down at Quinn, breathing heavily. Everyone was staring at the two of them, but Santana didn't care. She loved Quinn, nothing else mattered.

"Go away, Santana." Quinn whispered, softly enough that only Santana could hear.

Something in Santana broke. She had been so sure that she could win Quinn back with the poem, she hadn't even paused to consider the possibility that she might be rejected. Again.

The librarian chose that moment to appear beside the table.

"Get down from there, dear." she said softly, reaching up and lightly grasping Santana's sleeve. Santana jerked away sharply, her head whipping round to look at the old woman, her eyes dancing with fire.

"Don't touch me." she said, staring straight into the librarian's eyes. "I _will_ go all Lima Heights." The woman retracted her hand immediately.

Santana looked down at Quinn, who was still covering her face with her hands. Tears began to well in her eyes once more. She stepped forward, leaping off the table, landing lightly on the floor before storming out of the library.

Whispers broke out like tiny dancing fires as Santana left. The librarian looked around, making shushing noises before returning to her desk.

Quinn hadn't moved. She sat there, with her face in her hands. She wanted to go back to Santana. She really, truly did. But she couldn't. Not now, not ever. She was in too deep. She sighed deeply. This was way worse than she had thought.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Brittany found Santana in a deserted corner of the school grounds, sat on the floor, her back to the wall, tears running down her face. The girl had cried so much over the last few days, Brittany was surprised that she even had any tears left.

"San?" she asked gently, not wanting to scare the other girl.

Santana looked up at her.

"She rejected me."

Brittany closed her eyes, sitting down next to Santana.

"What do you mean?"

Santana quickly filled her in on what had happened in the library. When she had finished, Brittany sighed sadly. It had been a romantic gesture, certainly, but not one that Quinn would have appreciated.

"You shouldn't have done that, San." she said softly.

"Why not?" Santana demanded, glaring at Brittany.

Brittany sighed. Time for cold, hard truth.

"She doesn't want you, San."

"Yes, she does!" Santana shouted back. "She does want me, I know she does!"

Brittany shook her head.

"Not like you want her, San. Not at the moment, anyway. She's scared of what her father will do."

"He wouldn't do anything to her!" Santana replied hotly, but Brittany shook her head again.

"She's not scared of what he'll do to her; she's scared of what he'll do to you. She's keeping you safe!"

Santana shook her head.

"I'm not scared of him!"

"Santana, please." Brittany pleaded. "Please don't do anything rash." Santana stood up suddenly. "Where are you going?"

Santana simply looked at her, her face an expressionless mask.

"To prepare."

Brittany's brow furrowed in confusion.

"To prepare? For what?"

"I'm going to war."

-x-x-x-x-x-

The news of Santana's stunt in the library went around the school like wildfire. By lunchtime, it seemed that everyone knew what had happened.

It was at lunchtime that Santana finally snapped.

She was sitting alone at a table, mindlessly picking at her food, not really eating any of it. Students would look at her as they passed her table, snickering to each other. Santana ignored them. They didn't know _anything_.

She watched Quinn cross the canteen. The blonde didn't look her way, the only person in the school who didn't. She watched as she sat down at the table with the other Cheerios, immediately joining in in their conversation.

Her stomach twisted itself into knots, and she felt like she was going to throw up. Here she was, alone and heartbroken, and there was Quinn, carrying on with her life, seemingly without a care in the world. Like nothing had changed.

To everyone else, nothing had changed. But to Santana, everything had changed.

The sound of raucous laughter cut through the haze surrounding her mind. It might not have been aimed at her. Someone may have just overreacted to a stupid teenaged joke. But that thought never crossed Santana's mind.

They were laughing at her.

Everyone was laughing at her.

She surged to her feet, staring across the canteen at the source of the laughter.

"Go ahead; laugh!" she shouted across the room. Every head turned to look at her. "I'm funny, right? You all think I'm funny? Go ahead! Ha ha ha! Ha ha ha ha!" She stared around at everyone. "Ha ha ha ha!"

Mr Schuester got up from his table, abandoning his lunch, making his way over to Santana, who was still laughing hysterically.

"Santana, calm down." he said, reaching a hand out, but Santana batted it aside.

"None of you know _anything!_" she screamed. "_ANYTHING!_"

There was a trolley of dirty plates and cutlery a few feet from her. She strode over to it, grabbing it by the push handles. The trolley rocked a few times on its unsteady wheels before the entire cart tipped, sending the plates and everything on them crashing to the floor, forcing Mr Schuester to jump backwards to avoid being struck by an errant shard of crockery.

The canteen was deathly silent as Santana turned and sprinted out of the room.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Emma Pillsbury closed the door to her office, drawing the blinds across the windows so that no one could look in before walking around her desk and settling herself into her chair.

"Please, take a seat."

Santana regarded her cautiously for a moment before slowly sitting down in the chair. She stared at Emma, not saying a word.

Emma cleared her throat.

"Santana, some members of staff are becoming worried about you."

"I don't care." Santana said, her voice slightly hoarse.

"Well, as teachers, it's our job to care." Emma replied evenly. "I'd like to talk about your little outburst at lunch today."

"Well, I wouldn't." Santana replied. She didn't want to talk about it. She just wanted everyone to leave her alone. She wanted everyone to stop laughing at her.

But most of all, she wanted Quinn.

Emma shifted in her seat slightly.

"Would you be comfortable if your parents were here with you? We can certainly arrange - "

"No." Santana cut her off. "They wouldn't come anyway. They don't care about me."

Emma sat up slightly. An opening? Possibly.

"I'm sure they care about you a great deal, Santana."

Santana stared at her, her eyes burning red hot.

"Really?" she asked, leaning forward, raising her voice slightly. "You really think they care? Let me spell it out for you. My father took off ten years ago. I haven't heard from him since. Not once. Not even a phone call on my birthday. Nothing! And my mother? Her? I barely see her. She's never home when I get home from school, and the only times I see her are when I leave for school the next morning, and even then she's usually passed out somewhere in the house. I've essentially lived on my own throughout my entire high school career. So please. Tell me _exactly_ which part of that suggests to you that my parents give even a single damn about me?" She was nearly shouting by now.

Emma wanted to cry at the sheer emotion in Santana's voice during her rant, but she forced herself not to. If she cried, Santana wouldn't ever trust her enough to open up to her about what she was going through.

Time for a change in topic.

"Okay. How about we talk about the emotions that led you to that outburst?"

Santana shook her head.

"I don't want to."

Emma sighed lightly.

"Santana, I can't help you if you refuse to talk to me."

"I don't want your help!" Santana shouted. "I didn't ask for it, and I don't need it!"

"I'm only trying to help you."

"Well, don't!" Santana cried.

Emma said nothing. She hated to admit it, but she was starting to feel like she was in way over her head with Santana. The kids usually fought when they were sent to her, but they always eventually opened up to her. Santana, it seemed, was going to be the exception.

"Well, how about this, Santana?" she asked gently, once Santana had calmed slightly. "I'll keep an appointment free every week. If you want to come and talk to me then, you can. You don't have to if you don't want to, but I think it would help you."

"I don't need some headshrinker telling me I'm crazy!"

"I don't think you're crazy, Santana." Emma said softly. "Just think about it, okay?"

Santana sat there for a long time, mulling it over in her head.

"Fine. I'll think about it."

-x-x-x-x-x-

Brittany was pulling her books out of her locker when she became aware of a presence beside her. She looked around to see Rachel Berry smiling up at her. There was something wrong, though. Berry had barely spoken two words to her since they had arrived at the school, but it was her smile. It wasn't her usual smile, bright and full of life. It looked forced, the kind of smile you give a widow at a funeral.

"Hi, Brittany."

Brittany nodded slowly.

"Rachel."

Rachel looked like she was trying to best decide how to broach her topic. Brittany left her to it. She was getting worried about Santana, and wanted to find her as soon as possible.

She was about to walk away when Rachel finally spoke again.

"I just thought you should know, people have been saying some not very nice things about you."

Brittany's eyes narrowed.

"What kind of things?"

Rachel swallowed.

"Well, the way you've been hanging out with Santana so much recently. People are starting to say that you're like her. Everyone knows about what she did in the library earlier. They're saying she's gay, and therefore, you are as well."

Brittany's fists clenched. It would be everyone's immediate thought. As soon as two girls showed even the smallest sign of closeness, it's instantly some huge scandal. Brittany was like Teflon; she didn't care what people said about her. But she did care about what people said about Santana. Particularly at the moment.

"Well, Santana's my friend." Brittany said, glaring at Rachel. "So, I guess it doesn't really matter what other people think."

She slammed her locker shut and walked away, leaving Rachel staring after her, open-mouthed.


	7. Chapter 7

_I could feel Santana slipping away from us. Her pain at losing Quinn was eating her up inside, and she refused to talk to anyone about it._

_But the worst part? The worst part was that Quinn didn't seem to care..._

-x-x-x-x-x-

No one seemed quite sure how to act around Santana. At first, the girl's meltdown had seemed funny. Now, though, it was terrifying. The Latina would lash out at anyone and everyone.

Puck walked back into school the next day, his face taped up. He moved as far as the walls would allow when Santana walked down the corridor toward him, but she didn't seem to register his appearance, or even his presence. She just kept walking.

Brittany was her only constant. The blonde girl was always at her side, never leaving her alone for more than a few moments. She saw the covert looks people gave them, and the whispered gossip behind hands.

She ignored them all.

They didn't know anything.

But she couldn't ignore Sam and Quinn.

For Brittany, it was almost irritating. Quinn was clearly not interested in attempting to salvage her relationship with Santana, and yet Santana was still trying to win her back. She had to give Santana credit for perseverance, but the more she tried and failed, the more she was hurting herself.

They were getting their books from their lockers. Santana was once again spending the day in near resolute silence, only speaking when absolutely necessary.

Brittany glanced up the corridor, noticing Sam and Quinn stood by Quinn's locker. She sighed as she lowered her head, hoping against hope that Santana wouldn't notice.

She did.

The Latina looked around at the sound of Brittany's sigh.

"What is it?"

"Nothing." Brittany replied, a little too quickly.

Santana looked around, her eyes narrowing as they finally landed on Sam and Quinn. She simply stood there, watching them.

Quinn had evidently noticed. She caught Santana's eye, looking slightly past Sam. The hopefulness in Santana's eyes was almost too much for Brittany to bear looking at.

As they watched, Quinn leaned up, putting her arms around Sam's neck, drawing him down, pressing her lips firmly against his.

Brittany chanced a glance at Santana. She didn't really want to see the Latina's reaction.

Santana's entire body started shaking, almost uncontrollably. Her breaths came in deep, ragged gasps. She spun around, punching her locker door with such force that the bang was heard at the other end of the corridor. She screamed, a long, loud, agonized scream, like that of a wounded animal, then turned, storming off down the corridor. The ocean of students parted like the Red Sea; no one wanted to be in the Latina's way.

Brittany shot Quinn a lethal glare before hurrying away after Santana.

This was getting way out of hand.

-x-x-x-x-x-

That afternoon's Cheerios practice was by far one of the worst that Brittany had ever been a part of.

Santana was there, and yet, at the same time, not there. She seemed completely distracted, and all of her usual enthusiasm was gone.

After nearly an hour, Sue had finally had enough.

"Is there a problem, Sandbags?" she asked, once all the Cheerios had assembled.

Santana shrugged.

"Maybe. Who cares? Who gives a shit about me or my problems?"

A deathly silence descended over the practice field. No one spoke to Sue like that. No one.

Except, it seemed, Santana.

"What did you say to me?" Sue asked, her voice dangerously low.

"I said," Santana said, staring Sue straight in the eye. "who the _fuck_ gives a shit about me?"

Sue drew herself up, bearing down on Santana.

"Santana Lopez, I am your coach and your superior in every single way. You will _not_ use that kind of language with me again!"

Santana laughed coldly, stepping forward into Sue's personal space.

"You're not my coach, because I'm not a Cheerio. I quit."

Everyone's eyes flicked between Santana and Sue. No one moved. They barely breathed.

Sue's eyes flashed dangerously.

"You can't quit. No one quits. It's blood in, blood out. Now, fifty laps of the field. Go!"

Santana reached forward, grabbing the bunch of keys hanging on a lanyard around Sue's neck. She gripped them tightly, wrenching them toward her, breaking the clasp behind Sue's neck.

Everyone watched in transfixed horror as Santana selected a key. Holding it in her left hand, she extended her right, palm facing toward the sky. She dug the key into her hand, dragging the metal across her palm, splitting the skin as it went. Dark red rivulets of blood seeped out of the gash, rolling gently over her palm.

She tossed the bunch of keys back at Sue, who snatched them out of the air, staring at Santana in shock. Santana clenched her right fist, blood now covering her hand. She stepped forward, raising her hand. Placing it on Sue's tracksuit, she dragged her hand over the fabric, leaving a trail of blood in its wake.

"Blood out." she said as she removed her hand.

Everyone stared at her. No one knew what to do or say. Santana seemed to have finally lost it.

The Latina turned and walked away without another word.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Santana stared at her reflection in the mirror. She had washed her hand of her blood, and while the wound had healed slightly, every now and then a drop of blood would roll down her hand.

She knew what she had to do.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Brittany didn't see Santana for the rest of the day. She had hoped that Santana would be waiting for her at home, but when she arrived, her mother had told her that Santana wasn't there.

Brittany tried not to worry, but it was incredibly difficult to do so. These days, Santana was becoming increasingly unpredictable. She didn't want to think about what the girl would do to herself with no one there to supervise her.

She jumped as her phone beeped in her pocket. Pulling it out, she looked at the screen.

Santana Lopez:** Come to my house. Alone.**

Brittany couldn't remember driving to Santana's house. Her mind had been full of all manner of horrific possibilities. Santana hadn't been home in over a week. Something was going on.

The front door was unlocked, as was so often the case at the Lopez house. As Brittany closed the door behind her, she could hear a noise coming from upstairs.

Santana. It had to be.

Slowly, carefully, she ascended the staircase. A light was on in one of the rooms. Brittany followed it, pushing Santana's bedroom door open.

A chair had been placed in the middle of the room. Behind it, Santana was staring into the mirror mounted on the wall behind her dresser.

"Close the door." Santana said, her voice dead and emotionless. Brittany complied, never taking her eyes off Santana.

"You said you'd help me, right?" Santana asked, looking at Brittany in the mirror. "No matter what?"

Brittany nodded.

"Of course I will, San."

Santana nodded. She reached a hand out, picking something up off of the top of the dresser. She turned, holding the item out. Brittany looked down at Santana's hand, clutching tightly to a pair of scissors.

"Good." She held her hand out, proffering the scissors to Brittany. "Now, cut off my hair."

Brittany's eyes widened.

"What?"

"You heard me." Santana said, crossing the room, pressing the scissors into Brittany's hand. "Cut off my hair." She turned and sat in the chair, looking at Brittany expectantly.

"Santana, this is crazy!" Brittany started.

"Come on!" Santana said, grabbing a handful of hair with such force that Brittany was surprised the girl didn't rip it out of her scalp right there.

"Santana," Brittany said gently, stepping closer. "is this for Quinn?"

"Just cut. Off. My. Hair!" Santana snarled.

"She wants a guy, San," Brittany said, tears building in the corners of her eyes. "not a girl who's hacked her hair off."

Santana's eyes burned with rage. She surged out of the seat, grabbing Brittany by the shoulders.

"You don't know anything about it!" she screamed, pushing Brittany roughly to the floor. Brittany looked up in shock, just in time to see Santana recoil, her hands flying up to cover her mouth.

"I'm sorry." she whispered, staring in horror at Brittany. "I'm sorry..."

Brittany pulled herself to her feet, her tears finally running down her face, the first time they had done so in front of Santana.

"Santana, listen to me." she choked out. "Quinn isn't like you. She's not a lesbian, so you should just give up chasing her."

Santana stared at Brittany, wide-eyed.

"A lesbian?" she asked. "A _lesbian_? Are you freaking kidding me, Brittany? You think I'm a _lesbian_?"

Brittany looked into Santana's eyes, confused.

"Well, you're a girl who's in love with a girl, aren't you?" she asked carefully.

Santana shook her head rapidly.

"No! I'm not! I'm _Santana_, who's in love with _Quinn_, remember, Britt?" She picked up a small photo frame, passing it from hand to hand as she started pacing around the room. "I am in love with Quinn, and Quinn is, she _is_, in love with me, and neither of us are _LESBIANS!_" She screamed the last word, turning and hurling the photo frame at the mirror. The mirror shattered, the pieces falling to the ground as Santana fell to her knees, her face buried in her hands.

Brittany sat on Santana's bed, not knowing what to do. Never, in all the years of knowing her, had she seen Santana look as bereft and helpless as she did now. She slid off the bed, joining Santana on the floor, wrapping her arms around her.

"Come on, I'll take you home."

-x-x-x-x-x-

The next morning, Brittany stared at the two sets of clothes on her bed. On the left hand side lay a pair of jeans and a shirt. On the right, her Cheerios uniform.

It was a simple decision, yet huge at the same time. It wasn't just about choosing what to wear. It wasn't even about choosing to stay on or quit the Cheerios. It was bigger than that.

It was Team Santana. Or Team Quinn.

There was no debate at all in Brittany's mind.

She walked forward, grabbed her jeans and shirt and proceeded into the bathroom to change.

Team Santana.


	8. Chapter 8

_The father-daughter dance at William McKinley High School was the final nail in Santana's proverbial coffin._

_I knew what it would be like for her to go. I begged her not to go. I pleaded._

_Santana refused to listen to me. She had fallen so far without Quinn. She was lost. Lost without her._

_I had no idea what she was planning on doing at the dance._

_I don't think even she knew what she did after would happen..._

-x-x-x-x-x-

"No! Absolutely not!"

Brittany placed the box containing her Cheerios uniform onto Sue's desk with authority, refusing to touch it when Sue pushed it back toward her.

"I've made my choice, Coach."

Sue shook her head.

"No! I cannot have two of my best performers quit. Without you and Santana, I have next to no performance."

"I've made my choice." Brittany repeated firmly.

Sue looked at her curiously.

"Is this because Santana quit?"

Brittany's eyes hardened.

"Santana's choices have nothing to do with mine. I'm quitting because _I_ want to."

She turned and left Sue's office without a backwards glance.

She felt no regret.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Santana stared at the poster, seeing it but also seeing through it.

Someone high up in the school management had evidently decided that it would be a good idea to have an annual father-daughter dance at the school. Something about getting the parents involved with the school.

A single, lonely tear ran down Santana's cheek. She raised a hand, brushing it away, continuing to stare at the poster.

Once upon a time, this could have been something she would have looked forward to. A chance to spend some time with her _papi_. Just the two of them.

She could see it all in her mind's eye. The music, the decorations, her _papi_ holding her close in his arms as they swayed to the gentle beat of the music.

But then, she wondered, would she have enjoyed it? Would she have looked forward to it? Maybe the fact that her _papi_ had been missing more than half her life, and her wanting to have known him, properly known him, was making her believe that it would have been a good thing.

What would her relationship have been like with her _papi_? Would it have been a good one, full of love, and joy, and happiness? The kind of relationship where they would both have looked forward to these kind of events with infectious eagerness? Or would it have been sour, something they did as a last ditch attempt to be a parent and a child?

Santana would never know.

Another tear rolled down her cheek.

She didn't brush it away this time.

"Santana?"

Santana jumped as a hand descended onto her shoulder lightly, startling her out of her musings. She whirled round, glaring at the owner of the hand, her expression softening immediately as she saw Brittany's face.

"Sorry." Brittany said. "I didn't mean to startle you."

Santana shook her head.

"It's all right."

Brittany glanced at the poster, her face falling.

"Santana, why are you doing this to yourself?"

"Doing what?" Santana replied evasively.

"You know what." Brittany said, gesturing at the poster. "Torturing yourself with something you can't have." The double meaning of the question was not lost on Santana.

"It's not fair, Britt." Santana said, and she seemed to be shrinking as she spoke. "I've wanted a father for as long as I can remember. This is just like the universe's way of saying, 'Hey, look, look at what you're missing out on.' I'm tired of not being able to have the things I want, or the things that other people take for granted." She looked back at the poster, breathing deeply.

Brittany gave the Latina an impassioned look. She felt so terrible for the girl, who had gone through so much, with so little to show for it. She knew there was more to this, though.

"You know Quinn will be there, don't you?"

Santana nodded.

"I know."

There was something in Santana's voice that instantly set Brittany on guard.

"Santana, please don't pursue her there."

"Why not?" Santana demanded, her hackles rising immediately.

"Russell will be there."

Santana nodded.

"I know. That's the idea. I'm giving her a choice. Me, or Russell."

"Santana - "

"No!" Santana cried. "Don't 'Santana' me, Brittany. I am sick and tired of people telling me what I can and cannot do! I told you that I'm going to war. I'm going to fight for Quinn, until my last breath if I have to!"

With that, she spun on her heel and walked away, leaving Brittany alone in the hall.

-x-x-x-x-x-

The father-daughter dance was being held in a marquee, out on the front lawns in front of the main school building. While it was an obvious attempt to give the impression that the event was a lot fancier than it really was, you had to admit, it was an obvious attempt done well.

A long carpet had been laid down, stretching from the main path to the marquee. Small lanterns illuminated the way, their light casting winking patterns across the ground from the reflections of the dresses worn by the girls.

Everyone had certainly made an effort tonight. Not prom effort, but much more than they would normally have done. Hair that had been elaborately styled over many hours. Dresses painstakingly chosen from the many, many racks at the Lima mall. Makeup that had been applied slowly and carefully in front of many mirrors.

When Brittany entered the marquee with her father, her jaw dropped slightly. A large dance floor had been laid out, with a small stage at one end. The school jazz band were on the stage, setting up amps and other equipment. At the other end, several round tables had been laid out, covered in white sheets and decorate with large bouquets of flowers.

As Brittany looked around, she could see no sign of Santana. While she was relieved that the Latina wasn't there, it did set her nerves on edge. She wanted to be able to enjoy the night, but a small part of her would still be worrying about Santana.

Across the marquee, Brittany could see Quinn standing next to her father. She was wearing a pale green dress that clung to her body, the fabric glittering slightly every time she moved. Russell himself was in a simple suit, quietly conversing with another parent next to him.

"Brittany?"

Brittany looked round at the sound of her father's voice.

"Sorry?"

"I said, shall we sit down?"

Brittany glanced back at Quinn, then at the entrance before nodding.

"Yeah, sure."

-x-x-x-x-x-

An hour and a half later, and there was still no sign of Santana. Brittany was hoping that maybe the girl had decided against coming.

She was in the middle of the dance floor, dancing with her father. Her father had always been the one to encourage her dancing, and that made dancing with him extra special to Brittany. She held onto him as she allowed him to lead her through the simple moves, just enjoying their time together.

She wasn't sure what had made her look at the entrance to the marquee, but when she did, her heart almost stopped.

Santana was stood there. But it didn't look like Santana.

Unlike every other girl at the dance, Santana had forgone a dress. Instead, she had opted for a simple pair of black pants and matching jacket over a white button down shirt. All three items had been carefully fitted, accentuating her curves. She had brushed her hair out of her face, letting the raven locks fall down her back. She had taken a minimalistic approach when it came to her makeup, only wearing a small amount of eye shadow.

It was a decidedly masculine appearance. But also, amazingly feminine at the same time.

Santana's eyes roved over the crowd, narrowing as she spotted Quinn dancing with Russell a few feet from Mark and Brittany.

Brittany knew what would happen. She quickly disengaged from her father.

"Excuse me for a minute." she said apologetically, threading her way through the crowd towards Santana.

"Santana, what are you doing here?" she asked, once she was at Santana's side.

"Fighting for my love." came the short reply.

"Santana, please. Don't do this." Brittany pleaded.

"No. I'm doing this. You can't change my mind."

Brittany placed her hands on Santana's shoulders.

"Santana. Please, listen to me. If you do this, you're going to hurt so many people. Quinn, me, you. You can't do this."

Santana stared directly into her eyes.

"My mind is made up."

Brittany's head fell forward, her eyes screwed shut.

"Fine. Go ahead. But I can't watch this."

"I'm not asking you to."

-x-x-x-x-x-

Santana made her way around Brittany, picking a path through the crowd on the dance floor, her eyes never leaving Quinn and Russell. She knew what she had to do.

She stopped next to Russell and Quinn, watching them for a few moments. Then, she took a deep breath, and stepped forward.

"Good afternoon, Quinn."

Quinn looked up at Santana, her eyes widening as she took in the Latina's appearance. She didn't reply.

Santana stepped forward, addressing Russell.

"Mr Fabray, I wonder if I might dance with your daughter?"

Russell's face hardened, one eyebrow rising.

"Is this a joke, Quinnie?" he asked.

"Joke?" Santana said, before Quinn could speak. "Joke? I'm deadly serious. I'm asking to dance with your daughter. Politely." she added.

Russell shook his head.

"I don't think that is appropriate, and I don't think that Quinnie thinks that it's particularly appropriate ei-" He was cut off as Santana stepped between him and his daughter, taking Quinn's hands and moving her away through the crowd, holding her close to her.

"Santana, what are you doing?" Quinn hissed, ignoring the odd looks the pair were receiving as they danced together.

"Fighting for you." Santana replied.

"Santana, I am not yours to fight for!"

"Yes, you are!" Santana replied hotly. "I'm in love with you, and I know you're in love with me. Not Sam, me! I want you to say it, right now."

"I can't do that, Santana." Quinn said softly, trying to pull away, but Santana kept a firm hold of her hands.

"Yes, you can. 'I'm in love with you, Santana.' Say it, so everyone can hear! Say it!" Quinn shook her head. "It's easy! Say it!"

Quinn said nothing. Instead, she extricated herself from the Latina's grip, making her way back across the dance floor to her father, leaving Santana alone once again.

Santana started shaking, tears starting to pour down her face. She felt like Quinn had just reached into her chest and ripped out her heart. She couldn't take it anymore. She couldn't take the constant rejection and indifference. She could feel the eyes of everyone boring into her, and she brought her hands up to her face, trying to shield herself from their stares.

Emma forced her way through the crowd, appearing at Santana's side in an instant. She brought a hand up to Santana's shoulder, but the Latina grabbed it roughly, pushing her away.

"Leave me alone!" she screamed. "All of you, just _LEAVE ME ALONE!_"

She spun on her heel, sprinting toward the main school building, screaming all the way. When she reached the front door, she grabbed it, wrenching it open and disappearing inside.

Everyone stared, dumbstruck, at the building the girl had just disappeared into. Quinn was trying to discreetly wipe her face. She hadn't wanted to hurt the Latina. She had never wanted to hurt the Latina.

Brittany didn't know what to do. She should have made Santana go home. If she hadn't been here, she would never have completely broken down.

The silence was pierced moments later by a shrill scream.

Brittany's head whipped around to find the source of the noise. She saw one of her classmates, pointing at something in the sky outside the marquee.

Everyone seemed to have the same idea. As one, they moved out of the marquee, trying to get a better look.

Out on the front lawn, it was clear to everyone what the girl had seen.

A lone figure was stood on the roof of the school building, staring down over the edge.

They were almost four stories up, but Brittany knew instantly who it was.

Santana.


	9. Chapter 9 & Epilogue

_Up until that point, I felt like I had been looking at the whole Quinn and Santana situation through a sheet of frosted was hazy and unclear, with no real consequence to it._

_When I saw Santana, stood high up on the roof, looking out over the edge, I felt like that sheet of glass had been shattered. Here was very real proof that there could, and would, be very serious consequences._

_Time to be a grown up..._

-x-x-x-x-x-

Brittany's blood ran cold. She stared up at Santana in horror. She wanted to wake up, to convince herself that this was all a dream. But it wasn't a dream. It was very, very real.

Santana didn't appear to be moving. Brittany didn't know why, but she did know that she needed to get up there. She had to talk Santana down. She had told Santana she would always be there for her. She wasn't about to go back on that now.

She barged her way through the crowd, running as fast as her dress would allow. The door to the main building was slightly ajar, and she pulled it open, disappearing inside.

She looked around wildly, trying to determine the path Santana had taken. She hadn't even known that there was an access way to get to the roof from this building, so how Santana knew about it was a mystery to Brittany. She felt sick to her stomach as she realized that Santana must have searched for the roof access, and all that that implied.

A door caught her eye to her right. As she approached, she could see that it was slightly ajar, as though pulled shut roughly behind someone. A small, battered plaque on the door read _RESTRICTED_.

This must be the way.

Brittany hurriedly pulled the door open, slipping through the gap as soon as it was large enough to accommodate her. Beyond the door was a staircase, lit by a few naked lightbulbs in holders along the walls.

Yes, this had to be the way.

She lifted the bottom of her dress, rushing up the stairs two at a time, finally arriving at another door. This one, too, was open.

Brittany took a deep, calming breath. She was sure that Santana would still be up here. This was the only way off the roof, and if the Latina had jumped, she was sure she would have heard the crowd.

She pushed the door open, stepping out onto the roof.

Santana was still up there, staring over the edge at the crowd below. Up this high, the wind, which had been a mere breeze below, was howling, whipping across them with a biting sting. Santana's hair was flying around her, giving her an almost angelic appearance. Brittany could feel the wind ruining her own hair, but couldn't care less.

"Santana!" she shouted over the wind, walking closer to the Latina.

Santana didn't turn round.

"You were right, Brittany." she said. She didn't raise her voice, but Brittany could still hear her perfectly. "Quinn doesn't want me."

Tears started to roll down Brittany's cheeks. She couldn't believe it had come to this. Two weeks ago, Quinn and Santana had been completely head over heels for each other. Now, here she was, having to attempt to talk Santana off a metaphorical and literal ledge.

"Santana, please don't do this!" Brittany cried. She was only a few steps away from Santana now.

Santana made no indication that she had heard her.

"You know, it's funny." Santana said, and Brittany wasn't sure if she was talking to herself or to her. "All it would take is one more step. One more step, and all the pain, and all the humiliation will be over."

"That's not true, San!" Brittany shouted. "If you do this, your pain might be over, but it will hurt everyone here far worse than you ever did. Do you really want to do that to me? To Quinn?"

"Haven't you been paying attention, Britt? Quinn doesn't care what happens to me!"

"Santana, of course she cares about you!" Brittany said, forcing back her sobs.

"No, she doesn't. No one cares about me." Santana shrugged her jacket off, holding it in one hand. She stepped forward. Her toes were now hanging over the edge of the abyss. The collective gasp of the crowd was almost lost beneath the wind. Santana held her arm out, letting her jacket fall, watching as the garment fell through the air, landing on the ground some four stories below.

"No one cares about me." Santana repeated. "My parents don't care, the girl I love doesn't care. No one cares about me, and so, by extension, no one will miss me when I'm gone."

She raised her arms to the side, her hair whipping around her head, a cruciform angel. Several screams managed to make themselves heard over the wind.

In that instant, Brittany knew what she had to do.

She stepped forward, so that she was right next to Santana, her toes off the edge of the building as well. Santana turned her head to look at her, the first time she had done so since Brittany had shown up on the roof.

"If you jump, Santana," Brittany said evenly. "then I'm jumping too."

It had seemed like a good idea. She was terrified, but if it meant that Santana would listen to her, then it would be worth it. She could only hope that Santana wouldn't call her bluff.

Santana stared at her, eyes wide, tears pooling in their corners.

"Brittany, please don't do this." she said, her tone pleading.

Brittany shook her head.

"I'm serious. Please, don't do this. Just hear me out, okay? Come away from the ledge. Slowly, now."

Santana didn't move for a long time. Her gaze kept switching between Brittany and the ground, so far below them. She seemed to be having a huge internal conflict. Brittany was tense, ready to throw an arm around Santana at the slightest hint that the girl was going to jump.

Finally, thankfully, after what seemed like an eternity, Santana dropped her arms, taking several small steps backward, away from the ledge.

On the ground, everyone let out a collective sigh of relief, a sigh that went unheard on the roof.

"I'm listening." Santana said dully. "Give me a reason to live."

Brittany's heart was hammering in her chest. This was only half the battle. Never before had so much depended on her. This was literally a matter of life and death.

"I can't begin to imagine what you're going through, San," Brittany said, choosing every single word carefully. "and I'm not going to pretend I can. You were right. If you jump, you won't have to feel anything anymore.

"But before you do? I want you to think. Think of all the places that you want to go to. All the things you want to see. All the things you want to do and experience. Think of the most beautiful sunset and sunrise that you've ever seen. Think of everything you've achieved so far in your life. And everything you want to achieve.

"Sure, you may be hurting now, and you are hurting, San, but if you just peer around the corner, there's so much that life has in store for you. So much to look forward to."

She paused, remembering something that she had been taught years earlier during Sunday School.

"I want you to imagine that you're walking along a long, white, sandy beach. You're an old woman, San, who's lived a long, full and happy life. You pause for a moment, and look behind you. There are two sets of footprints in the sand. One set belong to you. The other belongs to me. Because I've been there, all your life, right beside you, just like I promised I would be. Remember? And sometimes, sometimes, there's only one set of footprints."

Santana's eyes were closed, fat tears rolling down her face. "Why are there only one set?"

"Because that's where I carried you, when you weren't strong enough to carry yourself. I'll always be there for you, San. Always."

Santana sobbed, launching herself into Brittany's arms, burying her face in Brittany's neck. Brittany held her tightly, rocking gently back and forth. Relief flooded her body, and she felt her own tears starting to fall.

It was an age, or so it seemed, before Santana released Brittany from her embrace.

"Thank you, Brittany."

Brittany shook her head.

"No. Thank _you_, Santana."

Santana took several deep, heaving breaths.

"I don't want her back, Britt. I don't want Quinn back."

Brittany's brow furrowed.

"Are you sure, San?"

Santana nodded fiercely.

"I'm sure. I don't want her back. I just – I just want her to be happy. I think that's all I ever wanted. I just got too caught up in my own feelings. I see that now."

Brittany said nothing. She stepped forward, embracing Santana again.

"Come on, let's get down from here."

-x-x-x-x-x-**Epilogue**-x-x-x-x-x-

_I kept a close eye on Santana for a long time after that day. As far as I know, she never tried to commit suicide again._

_Everyone thinks they know the whole story. As usual, it was the talk of the school. Santana and I heard many versions, each more fantastical than the last. Everyone thinks they know what happened. But only Santana and I know the whole story._

_My parents and I arranged for Santana to see a therapist. At first she was resistant, as was to be expected, but we both knew that she needed professional help. No one changes just like that._

_She still sees that therapist today, though I don't know what they discuss. Santana doesn't say, and I've never asked._

_We both graduated high school that year. My parents were as thrilled for Santana as they were for me. After everything that happened, they took Santana in, and have treated her as one of their own ever since. I can never thank them enough for that._

_Quinn married Sam four years later. Neither Santana nor I went to the ceremony. While we were happy for them, we both thought that it would be too much for Santana to handle. Could she have handled it now? Maybe. I guess we'll never know._

_Santana has had a few girlfriends since high school, though these always fizzled out. Maybe it was my near-constant presence, but Santana never complained about that. I was her rock. She never went into as much of a tailspin over these relationships as she did over Quinn. Progress._

_Actually, San said she met a girl at a coffee shop a few days ago. As always, I'm going to meet her as well. I always have, and I always will. I think she said her name was Dani something. The way she described her, it was with a look in her eyes that I've only ever seen when she spoke about Quinn. I'm going to have to be extra cautious with this girl._

_Neither Santana or I have heard from Santana's mother for years now. I think Santana's waiting for her mother to apologize to her, and she won't be the one to extend the proverbial olive branch. I'm not going to force her to, it has to be under her own power. It may be that her mother never gets in contact. I don't know what'll happen if that comes to pass._

_A lot of people wondered whether Santana and I were together in college, and even for a while after. That possibility never really entered our heads. She didn't want me to be her rebound, and I didn't want to be the one who came in and took advantage of the heartbroken damsel in distress._

_So, now we come to the big question: why did I write this? Like I said before, maybe no one will read it. But if even one person does, and they are going through the same thing, maybe this can help them to see that things do get better. Sure, there may be some bumps along the road, but that's life._

_The moral of the story? I guess there are several. Sometimes, what you want isn't necessarily what you need. Don't let others dictate who you love. When you've hit rock bottom, the only way is up._

_The list goes on and on._

_My name is Brittany S. Pierce. Thank you for reading._

**FIN**

**A/N: And thank you from me, as well.**

**As far as fanfiction goes, this was easily the heaviest thing I have ever written, not to mention the shortest. I hope you've enjoyed the ride.**

**If you, or someone you know, is going through something similar to what you have read here, there are many, many organizations out there who can and will help you. All you have to do is ask.**

**Will I write a sequel to this? Who knows? I may be struck with the inspiration to do so. I guess only time will tell.**

**Again, thank you, all of you, for reading.**


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